


Pink and Yellow

by Hodgeheg002



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: F/M, Pen and Ink Week 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:15:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27345688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hodgeheg002/pseuds/Hodgeheg002
Summary: A collection of scenes for Pen and Ink Week 2020.Day one: Last DanceDay two: Odds and EndsDay three: SootheDay four: MonsterDay five: DeviousDay six: Good RiddanceDay seven: Contagious
Relationships: Penelope Creighton-Ward/ Gordon Tracy
Comments: 26
Kudos: 21





	1. Last Dance

The ballroom was warm and crowded, full of important people dripping in shimmering fabrics and jewels as they mingled and silently judged. Penelope was in high demand, passed from person to person whilst Gordon trailed alongside her. Gordon had never been one to shy away from a party, had understood and accepted that part of Penelope’s career involved attending societal functions, maintaining the image of perfect aristocracy which afforded her both the ideal cover for her espionage activities as well as allowing her to skip across oceans and continents to spend as much time as possible with Gordon and lend a helping hand to International Rescue when needed. International Rescue’s ability to operate around the world rested on a complicated web of treaties and agreements, the bulk of which were covered by their relationship with the GDF, but for the few minority cases relied on Penelope’s ability to negotiate with the leaders of those remaining states that were not yet party to the Treaty of International Cooperation and Defence 2045 which established the creation of the GDF in the first place. This negotiation ability, however, relied on contacts and reputation which could only be built by attending these sorts of events, and when one became newly engaged, there was the further expectation that the fiance also attended. Gordon hadn’t minded, had relished the chance to spend a whole evening with Penelope uninterrupted by rescue calls even if Penelope was technically working, but he hadn’t anticipated this.

The ballroom was almost obscene in its grandeur and opulence, the crystals in the chandeliers shimmering and reflecting the light in such a way that they looked like cauldrons of fire, augmenting the gold of the decoration of the room. The dining hall had been equally grand, great rows of tables decked in heavy white linens and fine china. It was at that moment that Gordon had felt distinctly out of place. He was used to the sort of corporate events he had been dragged to on occasion when it was mandatory for the Tracy boys to show their faces, all canapes and drinks trays and tasteful music playing in the background whilst slideshows were projected onto the wall to extol the virtues of whichever company or charity the event was being held on behalf for. Those types of events were a world away from the event he was attending now, but maybe he should have realised when Penelope had instructed him ‘white tie, dear’ and Grandma Tracy had expressly forbidden him from wearing his favourite yellow socks.

The dinner was delicious, if decadent, but then after spending much of his time on an island with only Grandma Tracy’s cooking available, it wasn’t difficult to impress Gordon in terms of culinary feats. He managed to hold his own during the dinner, thrilling the Countess sat to his right with some of the more exciting rescues he had been on recently whilst Penelope was busy dazzling a government minister on her left, but it was what came after the dinner and speeches that really floored Gordon. He had not, in any capacity, anticipated dancing, although maybe he should have. Gordon was not, by any stretch of the imagination, a bad dancer. He had more than enough experience on the dance floor to draw from when needed, could even do the occasional slow dance if required after their grandmother had drilled them in basic waltz steps in a bid to run down some of the boundless energy young children typically had. Those hazy memories of dancing around an old kitchen table in a Kansas farmhouse with music blasting from his grandmother’s phone speakers was vastly different to the stately ballroom and assembled orchestra. Gordon tried, he truly did, sweeping Penelope up in his arms when the first couples flooded the dance floor and escorting the countess he had been sat next to at dinner afterwards, but the few steps he knew were not enough compared to the trained elegance that the dancers around him seemed to possess, and he found himself drifting to the sidelines and watching Penelope glide and whirl around instead. He didn’t mind. She was captivating in the way that she moved, the skirts to her dress swishing as she did so, the light catching on the golden flowers that were embroidered into the pale blush fabric, a stray curl falling loose from where it had been carefully pinned earlier that evening. All Gordon could do was watch, utterly absorbed by the beautiful woman in front of him, barely noticing the curious glances thrown his way as people wondered who he was and why he was there.

Eventually, the orchestra finished their last song for the evening, the final notes hanging in the air as they put down their instruments. There was a polite round of applause from the assembled guests and the conductor gave a short, self-conscious bow, as if he was slightly surprised to find that they were still there, and Penelope appeared at Gordon’s side in the secluded alcove as people collected their belongings and promised telephone calls, the business that fuelled the gathering finally rearing its head. 

“Ready to go?” Penelope asked, touching a gloved hand to Gordon’s elbow.

“If you are,” Gordon replied. “I don’t mind waiting if you need to schmooze some more.”   
  


“It’s fine, I’ve spoken to the people I need to. I’ll ask Parker to bring the car around.”

“Penny, it’s like, five minutes away. Why don’t we walk?”

“But it’s raining,” Penelope pointed out. Gordon reached his hand up, tucking the fallen curl back into place, before letting it fall and trail slowly down her arm. 

“So?” 

“We’ll get wet.”

“We can get dry.” His hand snaked round her waist to the small of her back, ducking his head down to kiss her ever so chastely on the lips. 

“...okay,” Penelope agreed, standing back slightly and slipping her arm through his. “Escort away.”

“As you wish, m’lady.”

The two of them meandered through the ballroom and into the main reception hall, joining the last of the throng that was pouring out of the building and down the stone steps. The rain had stopped by the time they made it outside, but Gordon didn’t point this out to Penelope, instead pulling her to a stop once they were away from the main building and shrugging out of his jacket wordlessly, draping it carefully around Penelope’s shoulders after noticing her start to shiver.

“You’re being awfully quiet,” she commented, threading her arms through the jacket properly.

“Just thinking.”

“Oh? They must be good thoughts to have you so quiet.”

“Mm. I was thinking how beautiful you looked. When you were dancing.”

“Oh.” She fell silent herself, expression inscrutable, before she stepped closer and slipped one arm around his waist, catching his hand with her other.

“Penny?”

“You want to dance?”

“Always.” He pulled her closer, slipping his own arm into a hold that came naturally, and the two of them slowly shuffled around in the deserted lane, having one last dance under the moonlight.


	2. Odds and Ends

When Gordon had first suggested that Penny relocated permanently- or at least semi-permanently- she had almost laughed, the earnest look on Gordon’s face the only thing stopping her and making her consider the proposition. If she was being honest and logical, it made sense. Her work took her all over the world, the only need for a permanent base being somewhere to sleep and eat and live, rather than somewhere to work with structure and hierarchy. Penelope may help to run various companies and committees but really, it was not unusual to attend meetings for these in holographic form. Her physical presence was rarely essential, even if part of her enjoyed the social aspect of attending in person, particularly if there was some form of will she needed to exercise to convince board members or committee members to agree to her perspective and opinion on matters. Even then, it was incredibly rare that she would have to attend anything on short notice, and if that really, truly was required then Parker was always extremely obliging in flying her there in FAB1. Gordon, on the other hand, didn’t have those sort of options. It was practically impossible to relocate from the Island, and asking him to leave IR was unthinkable. Whilst Gordon would consider it, if Penelope asked him to, the organisation was such a part of him that Penelope had never even had it cross her mind, let alone seriously consider it as a viable option.

The other reason as to why, logically, it made sense for her to move to the Island rather than Gordon moving to England was due to the fact that she had mostly moved there anyway. The unpredictable nature of rescue callouts meant that it was much easier for Penelope to visit Gordon rather than the other way around, eliminating the need for time off requests and trying to find cover for Gordon, especially given his specialism. Whilst the others could carry out rescues in Thunderbird Four- had to, even, when Gordon had been recovering from the Chaos Crew- that didn’t mean he liked the knowledge that there was someone else in his submersible, and Penelope didn’t like the twitching and distraction when Four had to be taken out without him. It made things easier for both of them if Penelope came to the Island and spent time with him there, guaranteeing that they would actually be able to see each other on a semi-regular basis.

But.

_ But _ .

Penelope wasn’t convinced about moving. She loved Gordon, so much that it scared her sometimes when she woke up gasping from nightmares full of shadowy, threatening villains, but there was something fatalistic about moving in with him officially, an entangling of their lives that stretched beyond working alongside each other and romantic relationships, that warred against long harboured instincts born from a near lifetime of independence and self-sufficiency. Sure, she had Parker, had had Parker since the moment she had been born, but their relationship had boundaries in a way that she and Gordon would no longer have.

That didn’t mean she regretted her agreement. She loved Gordon, and was painfully aware that Gordon loved her, had harboured a love since he had been sixteen and she had first visited the Island that was now to become her home with her father to offer their condolences to the newly bereaved family. If she had known then what was going to happen in the future, then maybe she would have made more of an effort to pay greater attention to the boy who compared her hair to candyfloss. Maybe she wouldn’t have gone at all, content in the knowledge that those five boys would eventually fly off into space and return with the missing patriarch. She hadn’t known though, at the time, and the resulting years had led to the two of them finally tumbling into a relationship, happy and content in their hurricane of romance, and it had been natural progression that had prompted Gordon to ask Penelope to move in and for Penelope to agree. 

But now, standing alone and surrounded by the trinkets and pieces of her life, Penelope had to decide what she would take with her and what she would leave behind. Maybe she was being too introspective, placing too high an expectation on the future, but there were things that she would have to give up and leave behind in order to continue the pursuit of the future she was chasing, had been chasing since she and Lord Hugh had landed on the Island. Penelope didn’t consider herself to be ultimately materialistic, but surrounded by the bits and pieces of her life up until that point, there was something melancholy about choosing the things that she would bring with her, and the things that she would leave behind after a lifetime of careful collection.

She loved Gordon, though, so she would choose the odds and ends of the things she would take with her, and which parts of her life she would no longer need, and one by one she started to sort through her belongings and place them into carefully curated boxes.


	3. Soothe

Gordon doesn’t get migraines often. John had often suffered from them, starting whilst he was in college and continuing into adulthood and before Eos had made her presence known it had been somewhat nerve-wracking for Scott, Grandma and Virgil to rely on John to remember to take the medication that felt like chalk when he felt one building, hoping that he was able to catch them in time rather than turning Thunderbird Five into a pit of sensory deprivation, opting to float in complete silence and darkness until the migraine was over. Now, Eos was able to monitor when one was building, prompting John to take the medication when needed and hustle him into the space elevator whilst alerting the family back on Tracy Island, letting them know about the imminent arrival of a zoned out John. It wasn’t the most perfect of solutions, but it certainly was better than before.

Gordon wished that there was a similar system in place for him sometimes, an AI monitoring his various bodily systems to alert him when one was on its way so that he could go and hibernate until it was over. He certainly had more preventative methods in place than John, with one of the reasons for his daily swim being to stream his out his muscles and offload some of the tension he held there, but sometimes that didn’t work. Sometimes the rescues were too long and difficult, too many hours spent hunched into uncomfortable positions setting off spasms up his shoulder blades and stiffening the muscles in his neck, travelling up and along until eventually it felt like red hot needles were being inserted through his eye into his brain and it took all he had not to throw up. Sometimes he was lucky enough to have a warning before the pain set in, if the distortions to his vision could be called luck. Even then, he knew that the shimmering, fuzzy filter his brain added to everything was an indicator that the migraine was going to be a particularly bad one, that anything requiring even a drop of energy was going to be off the table for the next few days because it wasn’t enough that he was off during the pain filled part, but that the recovery would extend over the next few days.

This time was one of the bad ones, leaving him a trembling mess in his bed, curled up on his side and pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes to block out the minuscule chink of light that had managed to make its way through the curtains and cursing the fact that the migraine had coincided with the day Penelope was arriving for a long awaited week together. He had made  _ plans _ , had things he wanted to do with her, things he wanted to show her, but now the thought of getting out of bed was an insurmountable task. It was beyond frustrating and if Gordon hadn’t locked his jaw shut against the waves of nausea then he would have screamed into his bedding. As it was, all he could manage to do was lie very still and hope that his body would give up its assault long enough to fall asleep. It wasn’t ideal, and he wished that he could greet Penelope himself, but he would have to trust his brothers to explain things and entertain her until he could move again.

He barely heard the soft click of the bedroom door as it opened, and Penelope was the epitome of grace so he never heard her footsteps unless she was purposefully asserting her position via the medium of heels on a hard floor, but he did feel her slip into bed behind him, running her fingers delicately through his hair. Gordon felt some of the tension start to ebb ever so slowly as she did so, his hands falling from his face as she coaxed him into her arms and into a more comfortable position. She didn’t say anything, didn’t try to ask questions or probe or make platitudes, she simply held him, fingers still carding through his hair oh so gently and interspersed with the occasional kiss pressed toC the crown of his head. As each moment passed Gordon could feel the tension dropping away, melting into nothingness as his head was soothed and he was finally able to fall asleep.


	4. Monster

The problem with the phrase ‘immovable object meets an unstoppable force’ is the concept that they are on two opposing sides, that they are able to cancel out their destructive power by virtue of going against each other. It is a representation o f the age old battle of good and evil, light versus dark, although at least immovable objects and unstoppable forces are not assigned a specific moral agency. The concept of good and bad being locked in an endless struggle for domination over the other is one that has fuelled faith systems and literary tales for millennia, a tried and trusted dichotomy that would probably never be resolved because, ultimately, humans were more complicated than that and things could only really be measured in shades of grey anyway.

Still. If one was to go with simplistic terms, with putting a person into either the ‘good’ or ‘bad’ camp, then Penelope supposed she was firmly in the latter. She knew her purpose, her mission, and it was most definitely not on the side of the light. She was good at it as well, had honed her skills over years to be the sort of mercenary agent that only existed in comic books. She was so good that most people didn’t even know who, exactly, she was, that the smiling and put together aristocrat was the same person that had people reading terrifying stories in the newspaper over their morning cornflakes. She was far better than the Hood, the other criminal much of the media’s time and attention but left behind sloppy messes that led the GDF right to him. Penelope would read the reports of his capture with contempt, lip curling into a sneer each time she read about his exploits and entanglements with both the GDF and International Rescue. His continued method of pursuing a head-on approach to tackling International Rescue, goading them and getting surprised each time it inevitably failed, was childish and it was little wonder that he had never managed to succeed. It was much better, much more effective, to take them down from the inside.

Penelope would claim she had chosen her target carefully, but really, he had found her. He had watched her from childhood, before the battle lines had been drawn between their families, and it had been so easy to tempt him over to her, whispering all the things that he wanted to hear into his ear until she had him wrapped around her fingers, so caught up in his love and desire for her that he would even compromise his place within his family of light to follow after her. Gordon Tracy was the complete opposite to everything she was, their two outlooks on life polar opposite, but here he was, caught in her web of manipulation without even realising. Of all of the five brothers, Gordon was the sunshine, the lightest of them all, a purity that couldn’t really be matched elsewhere. What she hadn’t expected, though, was the way he would make  _ her  _ feel about  _ him _ , a mirroring of love she hadn’t thought that someone so entrenched in the side of ‘bad’ would be capable of. She would kill for him, had done it before when he had been threatened by a rival group, in the same way that he had run from his brothers and smashed through buildings in order to get to her. They were forces of nature, the both of them, and as he slammed her up against one of the few walls left standing after their attempts to reduce the building to rubble, lips at her throat whilst their hands pulled at clothing until he was able to lift her up and sink into her, her legs circling around his waist, Penelope realised the truth. They were both as unstoppable as each other, that it shouldn’t be the concept of an unstoppable force meeting an immovable object that strikes fear, but what happens when two forces of such strength meet and team up, devouring anything in their path as she and Gordon had. A monster had been unleashed, and if Penelope cared a little bit more for the consequences of her actions, she may have slightly more trepidation as to what she had released and how much it would ultimately consume. However, in the here and now, the two of them joined on a much deeper level than teammates, Penelope knew that the two of them would continue to blaze ahead, leaving a trail of scorched earth and ash in their wake, a force of monstrous proportions that could not be stopped or contained. 


	5. Devious

It was a game that the two of them played. The rules were simple, the prize benefitted the both of them, but they were both equally competitive and the glory of winning meant that it didn’t matter how delicious the prize was, they were both going for the kill. It was almost a shame that the arena was a public venue- or at least, as public as a private party raising funds for the continued preservation of the New Barrier Reef could get. It was full of wealthy patrons wearing ethically sourced Jewell’s and clutching crystal glasses of Prosecco between perfectly manicured fingers. It was the perfect setting for their game, both Penelope and Gordon in equally high demand with Penelope hosting and Tracy Industries providing the largest donation to the project, but part of Penelope was wishing that they hadn’t decided to choose that particular party as their battleground. It was different to when they were out as just the two of them, teasing each other through drinks and dinner until one of them conceded defeat and the two of them made a hasty retreat to the privacy of a hotel room.

The tally between them was most certainly in Penelope’s favour, her skills of seduction much more superior to Gordon’s particularly when it came to picking people up at a bar, but the few occasions where Gordon had triumphed were certainly memorable, particularly the time she had taken him to the opera. She had based her strategy for that evening on cornering him during the interval but they never made it that far, Penelope dragging him into a cleaning cupboard before the end of the first act and jamming the door closed with a broom handle when his wandering fingers and whispered filth was too much to ignore. Gordon’s tactics were more subtle this time, no longer able to take advantage of the opportunities that a wrap dress provided. Penelope was not one to make the same mistake twice, no matter how the good the consequences felt, and had in fact dressed relatively conservatively dressed compared to some of the outfits she had chosen as her armour for previous rounds, but the way Gordon had looked at her when he had first seen her that evening, eyes flicking up and down and not even trying to mask the desire in his expression told her that the dress that she had spent so long carefully considering was likely to be lost somewhere on the floor the moment they got back to her hotel suite. Unfortunately, she couldn’t claim victory with that look, not when he was dressed in a sharp navy suit she hadn’t seen before, all clean lines and sophistication that made her weak at the knees and realise that the evening would truly be a battle, not that she was going to back down easily.

Maybe though she should have. Maybe deciding to play their game after weeks of overloaded schedules keeping them apart was perhaps not the smartest move, that maybe they would have been better off not going out at all, and instead should have headed straight to her hotel room instead, the promise of room service enough if they truly missed the bubbles and canapés of the party they would have ditched. But no, instead they had listened to duty and Penelope had endured an evening of the lightest of touches, fingers ghosting over areas that looked to be nothing, completely natural in polite company, but that Gordon knew would raise goose pimples and cause her to shiver, purposefully not looking at her as he discussed the importance of redesigning and repopulating the reef. Penelope had tried to keep up, had put up a fight, but the conclusion had been inevitable and Penelope had found herself pinned against a pillar in a darkened corner of the building, hidden by a heavy velvet curtain, whilst Gordon’s lips trailed fire over her pulse point and his knee pressed between her legs. Her hands tangled in his carefully styled hair, urging him on further, wanting more. She wasn’t able to hold back her gasp when he pulled back the neckline of her dress to sink his teeth in the flesh that was revealed. Penelope tried to pull him up for a kiss, her other hand diving down to the fastening of his trousers, when he pulled back and caught her wandering hand at the wrist, his smile wicked.

“Sorry, Pen. Rules are rules. You know where to find me if you want to concede.” He pressed on last kiss to her cheek and disappeared before she could protest, leaving Penelope to huff in frustration. She took a moment to straighten out her dress and fix her hair back into place before stepping out from behind the curtain, face set.

If Gordon was going to resort to devious tactics, then so would she.


	6. Good Riddance

She hadn’t meant to do it. There had been no nefarious intention on her part, no setting out to complete an act of destruction, had only wanted to do something nice for Gordon, show a modicum of domesticity in this isolated cabin in the woods he had taken her to for their first wedding anniversary, but as ever things had not gone to plan. It really wasn’t Penelope’s fault that she had never done laundry before, not in the sense of putting clothing into the washing machine and then the tumble dryer. All of her own clothes were sent out to be laundered, the company she employed taking responsibility for sorting which items needed dry cleaning and which could stand up to the rigours of a washing machine, employing advanced technology to ensure the minimum amount of time was needed to dry the clothing whilst ensuring the risk of the clothes shrinking was infinitesimally small. They had built their business on the assertion that they were the best, catering to all kinds of A-list clients. Penelope’s career was based on espionage and philanthropy, she could be forgiven for not knowing all of the ins and outs of the laundry business.

Gordon wasn’t exactly better. The advantage of living on an Island with someone like Brains was that all of their mundane needs could be catered for by automatic systems. Penelope supposed that it was maybe an unfair comparison, as the Island’s system also included methods of decontaminating their uniforms, an essential feature considering the sort of situations they frequently went headfirst into, and the number of times they had returned to the Island with blood soaked into the fabric of their uniform. They weren’t the only ones who had clothing stained by bodily fluids, it was more than possible for Penelope to return equally battered, but it was more common for the members of International Rescue and Penelope was careful when she went out, had to be to avoid raising suspicions about her actions.

The fact that she hadn’t therefore realised that Gordon’s shirt couldn’t go in the tumble dryer that had been so thoughtfully provided to them by the people Gordon had rented the cabin from was hardly her fault. Gordon did, after all, have a particular knack for finding the ugliest, oldest second hand shirts that he could find, taking a weird sort of pride whenever he found a new one, and they typically no longer possessed the label that contained the washing instructions. Penelope hated them with a passion, but somehow Gordon was able to just about pull them off. She didn’t know how. Maybe it was the relaxed vibe to the shirts that seemed to be applicable to most of Gordon’s actions, or maybe it was the fact that he tended to gravitate towards sunshine colours that mirrored his personality. Penelope didn’t know, had never managed to put her finger on it, but whatever it was it did make the shirts slightly less awful.

Only slightly, though.

As a result, it was with a small amount of glee that Penelope lifted the ruined shirt, shrunken to such an extent that it would probably fit Sherbet if he could be convinced to wear such an article of clothing. It was unlikely. Still, whilst it did mean that the world was rid of at least one hideous shirt, that still left the problem of how Penelope was going to break the news to Gordon. She wouldn’t have even touched the damn thing, but Gordon had seemed so forlorn when it had ended up covered in mud the day before and Penelope had jumped on the opportunity whilst he had gone to acquire more provisions for them to surprise him.

“What are we going to  _ do _ , Bertie?” Penelope asked. Sherbet whined in response.

“Do about what- hey, is that my shirt?” Gordon asked brightly, coming into the kitchen laden down with bags. Penelope decided that she would just have to bite the bullet.

“Yes, but I’m afraid it got rather shrunk in the wash. I’m so sorry, darling.”

Gordon looked at the shirt, then at Penelope’s apologetic expression, and smiled, pulling her in for a kiss and soothing any fears Penelope may have had about how upset he may be.

“Don’t worry about it, Pen. I can think of a rather fun activity where you don’t need any clothes at all.”   
  


“Oh can you now?”

“Mhm. And anyway,” he paused to kiss her again, arms circling tight around her waist, “I found another one whilst I was out.”

As Penelope let him tow her towards the bedroom, she wondered if maybe she ought to have a few more laundry mishaps to the rest of his shirts.


	7. Contagious

Penelope didn’t get sick. Other people became ill, she had even nursed Parker himself through a particularly nasty stomach bug not long after she had graduated from university, but she herself did not get ill. Even as a young child she had rarely succumbed to the usual childhood illnesses, and it was a testament to her immune system that she could count on one hand the number of times she had been sick.

Until now.

Until Gordon had completed a mission at a flooded village, and Penelope had met him at the rendezvous point for the rescue workers of the local primary school because their week off had needed to be postponed and Penelope had thought that Gordon deserved the surprise. Gordon had been delighted, hopping on board Thunderbird Two long enough for a shower and to change, Virgil not disabling the showers this time, before bounding back down the ramp and into the waiting arms of Penelope, more than happy to leave the rescue site in the back of FAB One and be whilst away back to the Creighton-Ward Manor. Take out food was already waiting for them when they got there, Penelope having guessed that asking Gordon to go straight from a long mission to a restaurant was perhaps a little unfair. Gordon was not inclined to disagree with her, bolstered by the prospect of not having to restrain his excitement of Penelope picking him up and the fact that he was now off rota for a whole week which would be spent with just the two of them. Penelope had been right; it was definitely a surprise that Gordon would  _ not  _ be complaining about.

What was less happy, as surprises went, was the headache Penelope woke up with the next morning. Had they gone out, as had been the original plan when discussing their week off, then Penelope would have chalked it up to too much wine, but they hadn’t and so Penelope rolled over in bed and tried to fall asleep again, trying to end the headache through sheer willpower, much like she achieved everything else. Penelope had always been a force of nature, had always exacted her will through sheer determination, and getting rid of this headache was no different. She would not be defeated by her own body, of all things.

Gordon remained oblivious to Penelope’s struggle, as fast asleep as he was. He didn’t even wake as Penelope shifted her sleeping position once more, trying desperately to fall asleep again but failing miserably. Eventually she was curled up with her back to Gordon, hand on his arm where it had come to wrap around her waist, counting his soft breaths until they finally lulled her into a doze. It didn’t last long, and when Penelope woke again she felt even worse, but this time Gordon was also awake, nuzzling into her neck and running his hand along her arm.

“Morning beautiful. How’d you sleep?”

“Badly,” Penelope grumbled, and Gordon stilled.

“How come?”

“Not sure, but I must have slept badly to get this awful headache.”

“Aw Pen,” Gordon said, and Penelope could almost hear the frown in his voice. “Do you want me to grab you some painkillers?”

Penelope sighed, twisting in his arms so she was face to face with him, the concerned pull of his eyebrows that she knew would be his expression firmly in place.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll have some breakfast first, I probably just slept at an awkward angle.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure, darling, don’t worry about it. I’ll be fine.”

***

Penelope was not fine. There had been an undercurrent of tension at breakfast, Penelope not hungry and Gordon concerned, and it had been abandoned after a while. Gordon had suggested that they stay at the Manor that day so Penelope could rest, but Penelope had been insistent about making the most of their week together and a compromise had been struck wit the two of them heading to the coast for the day, Penelope having grand visions of a romantic stroll along the promenade and down the pier, fish and chips for lunch in a seaside café and ice cream on the beach before heading home. They did manage the stroll aspect, but the wind was strong, whipping up the sand around them, and the two of them retreated to the café for cups of tea rather than lunch. By this point her headache had worsened and was joined by the uncomfortable feeling of a soaring temperature. Penelope felt too hot inside and too chilled outside, and Gordon made the executive decision to go to one of the stores that were dotted along the seafront to pick up a pack of painkillers.

“Pen, honey, are you sure you’re not sick?” he asked, handing her the medicine and water. Penelope scowled at him. 

“No, Gordon. I don’t get sick.”

“Not normally, no, but you’ve got a headache and a fever. Those are symptoms of illness.”   
  


“Well what do you think I have then, if you’re suddenly a doctor?” she snapped back. Penelope would have felt guilty, if she hadn’t been feeling so awful and if Gordon had looked even slightly taken aback, but she was and he wasn’t so she pushed any potential guilt aside. Instead, Gordon was peering closely at her collarbone, where she had pulled her jumper to the side in an attempt to cool down, and before she could question him further, Gordon snatched up her arm, pushing up the jumper sleeve. There, to her horror, were a series of small, red dots spread out randomly over her arm.

“I think you have chickenpox,” Gordon said simply. Penelope gaped.

“ _ How _ ? Children get chickenpox, not adults, I-”

“Penny, adults can get it too. Aw love, I’m sorry. C’mon, let’s get you home.”

“But I don’t  _ want  _ chickenpox.”   
  


“No one wants to be sick. But hey, I’m here, I can look after you, it’ll be fine.”

“Won’t you catch it too?”

“Pen, no. I have four brothers. Do you really think that we could make it to adulthood without making the rounds?”

Penelope rolled her eyes but didn’t comment further, letting Gordon guide her out of the café and back towards the car park where Parker was dutifully waiting, tablet in hand so that he could read whilst he waited. He seemed slightly surprised to see the two of them back so soon, not expecting them to want to return until the afternoon, but Gordon quickly explained the situation and Parker set off without comment, trying to keep the journey back as smooth as possible and glancing into the mirror that showed him the back seat every now and again to make sure Penelope was okay. He needn’t have worried though, for as soon as they took off Penelope made herself comfortable in Gordon’s arms and fell asleep almost immediately, not even waking when they arrived back and Gordon carried her up into the house and to her bed, settling her down and making her as comfortable as he could. 

***

The rest of the week was spent in bed, and not in the way Gordon would have liked, not that he complained. Penelope had managed to sleep for the rest of that evening and most of the next day, but had woken up late afternoon to the unbearable urge to itch the spots that had emerged all over her body. There had been so much bickering between her and Gordon about whether she should be allowed to scratch them that Gordon had resorted to threatening to tape oven mitts to her hands, with the result of Penelope bursting into frustrated tears. Gordon had panicked at that point, but remained resolute in his decision, and instead had been the one to apply the pink calamine lotion that Parker had picked up the night before. This went some way in soothing Penelope, who blushed at her earlier outburst but was content enough to settle in Gordon’s arms whilst they watched films from her bed. 

Fortunately, by the time the week was up Penelope was almost fully recovered, the itching, achiness, headache and fever having finally receded and leaving her with only the last few remnants of the spots. Penelope had felt bad, Gordon having spent his entire holiday looking after her, but that was swiftly dispelled by Gordon pressing his lips to her forehead and insisting that there was no other place he would be. Penelope had poured, disbelieving, but then John had called her on Gordon’s last night via her compact, apology written all over his face, to tell her that there had been an outbreak of chickenpox at the school site and that was where she had most likely picked up the virus. She had nodded graciously and John had disappeared, only for Penelope to look sideways at Gordon.

“...sorry?” He said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. Penelope rolled her eyes.

“You’re lucky you already had it,” she warned. “Otherwise I’d have to make sure you got it to.”

“Oh? How are you going to do that?” 

Penelope tackled him to the mattress, pinning him with her knees straddling each side, bending down to kiss him deeply.

“Just like that,” she explained when they parted, slightly breathlessly.

“Oh? Could you do it even though you’re not contagious?”

“Maybe.”

“Show me?”

Penelope giggled, before bending down to kiss him once more.

  
  
  
  



End file.
